


Focus

by un_petit_peu_de_moi



Series: Day by day [4]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: FC Barcelona, M/M, a bit of angst, a bit of blow job, barely any actions, barely any dialogues, but really, handjob, nothing is what happens, so what happens, there's barely any smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2772599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/un_petit_peu_de_moi/pseuds/un_petit_peu_de_moi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his doorbell ring in the middle of the night, Neymar's pissed off. But he sees Leo at his doorstep, and there's nothing he can say then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Focus

**Author's Note:**

> Have someone asked for a post-tie against Getafe fic ? ...No ?  
> Well, to be honest, after the match I wanted to read dirty and nasty sex, which is why I ended up writing barely smutty, somehow angsty fic.  
> On the other hand, it does have a purpose in the whole series, because it serves to show more of the workings of Neymar and Leo's evolving relationship.
> 
> ALSO ! For anyone reading it a few months from now, or who haven't really watched this match, it's basically a match that ended in a disappointing tie, and Neymar couldn't attend because he got ankle discomfort.

It was way past midnight when Neymar got woken up by his doorbell ringing. The noise was annoying and insufferable, and despite his resolve to ignore it, he found himself getting up groggily and angrily, cursing at whatever asshole had decided to wake him up at such an ungodly hour.

 

He had to leave the warm comfort of his bed, the chilly air attacking his naked skin as Neymar climbed down the stairs heavily. His vision was blurry, Neymar squinting his eyes to see where he was going, refusing to switch the lights on. He passed a hand through his hair to tame it a bit, but each strands bounced back to chaos when he moved his hand away.

 

He opened the door a bit fast, annoyed at whoever had dared to wake him up, and became even angrier when he was temporarily blinded by the automatic light of his porch. He groaned and blocked the light with his hand, waiting until there weren’t flash of lights behind his eyelids before opening his eyes, opening his mouth to yell at his unwanted guest. He was stopped short in his tracks, mouth agape, when he realized said guest was in fact Leo.

 

Leo was looking down - at the ground or at his feet, though Neymar suspected he really wasn’t looking at anything at all. His hands were buried deep in his pocket, and his hair was disheveled and flat, as though he hadn’t bothered to do them after the pouring rain of Getafe. He seemed like a lost child, on Neymar’s doorstep, not looking at him and just standing there in a jacket way to thin for the cold weather.

 

Neymar stepped back silently to let Leo come in. Leo entered, raising his eyes to meet his as he crossed the threshold of his home.

 

“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asked, with a small voice not unlike a child, and Neymar had to swallow the lump in his throat. He couldn’t trust his voice, and nodded instead.

 

They were both still after that, frozen in his hallway, Neymar waiting for Leo to maybe say something, while at the same time knowing perfectly well he wouldn’t utter a word.

 

“I wished I’d been here, today”, Neymar whispered quietly, his voice hoarse as he used it for the first time in the last hours. His mind wasn’t very clear yet, but he wasn’t lying right now, just voicing his thoughts, voicing out loud what he’d been thinking the whole day, what he’d been thinking watching this goddamn match; what he was always thinking every time he was kept away from the pitch even though he was supposed to be _there_. Maybe helping the team win, maybe losing; but losing together, and doing something instead of watching helplessly his team from the comfort of his couch. He’d done that during the World Cup, had watched his team lose, be humiliated, had seen everything happen and could do nothing more than clench his fists and restrain himself, keep his legs from moving, keep himself from _running_.

 

Neymar had never liked being cast aside, but it was even worst ever since then.

 

Leo huffed, and his eyes pierced him with intensity and sheer frustration, “Why are you feeling bad about it? You have nothing to regret; you weren’t the one out there; _there_ but powerless and shitty, and _useless_.”

 

Neymar could see Leo’s arms tense as he buried his clenched fists in his pocket with such intensity that his arms were shaking.

 

“You weren’t useless. I watched the match, and you weren’t – you’re never… useless” Neymar trailed off as Leo began glaring at him. Except he wasn’t really glaring at him right now - that much Neymar knew - he was glaring at himself, despising himself for not winning, for not having been able to single-handedly make the team win. If they won thanks to Leo only, then it was a team-effort in Leo’s mind, but if they lost- if they lost he was the only one to blame.

 

Neymar almost wanted to cry as he looked into Leo’s eyes, as he was faced with Leo’s self-depreciation; because the way Neymar saw Leo was just so _different_. He wondered if he’d ever be able to get it across one day, to make Leo understand how _impressive_ he was, how brilliantly he played. If he could make him understand how much he deserved the best for everything he had achieved and still tried to achieve, make him understand how Neymar could watch him play for hours, how playing next to him - with him - was thrilling; how Neymar sometimes wished he was good at drawing so he could paint Leo, fill endless and infinite canvas with his everything until he was able to put down perfectly every things that made Leo (and he would never be able to, and he would spend his whole life painting him, and that would be enough anyway).

 

There was nothing Neymar could say to cheer Leo up, and his words were caught in his throat anyway, strangling him, so he moved instead, silently nudging Leo and stirring him towards the direction of his bedroom. They climbed the stairs silently, and even once in his bedroom, none of them said anything.

 

Leo was still, standing with slouched shoulders in the middle of his room, and Neymar felt truly helpless. He had had to sit back in his couch where could do nothing but watch his teammates run into a wall, and now he felt even more useless, because this time he _was_ there, with Leo, but he still couldn’t do anything.

 

He had never seen Leo like that. No, actually he had, last year. Last year, things weren’t good for the club, and in-between injuries, losses and disappointing draws, Neymar could see Leo going deeper and deeper into depression. There were always dark circles under his eyes the day after they failed to win, and at the time, Neymar could do nothing but watch from the side as Leo spaced out and blamed himself, as he threw up before each game because of anxiety and pressure.

 

It was the first time he saw Leo after a disappointing game ever since they had somehow agreed to have a thing – whatever this thing was. At the time, Leo had come to him, silent and brooding, but he _had_ come to him, and they ended up having sex; and Neymar thought now that it may have helped Leo, the skinship; that Neymar may have helped him stay grounded. The only difference now was that each loss was worse than the precedent as the season dragged, because they kept doing that – kept on being good one match and sucking the other – and they all knew they were better than that.

 

If it kept on like this, Neymar knew that at some point, Leo would be too far gone for anyone to reach him, and that he wouldn’t come to anyone for guidance then.

 

He was here today though, he had come to _him_ , and Neymar still didn’t know what to do. Yet he needed to do something, to find a way to comfort Leo today, because if he didn’t do it _now_ he would never be able to.

 

So he moved towards Leo, took hold of his jacket, sliding it off of Leo’s shoulders. He grabbed the helm of his sweater along with his undershirt and pulled them off together, Leo barely moving his arms to help him get rid of his clothes.

 

Neymar knelt down, untying Leo’s shoes, one by one, and slipped them off, taking Leo’s sock off after that. He unbuckled Leo’s belt next and opened his fly, then pulled on his pants to get them off. Leo kept still the whole time, and he didn’t even move to step out of his pants, leaving Neymar to physically move his feet to get it off.

 

Neymar raised his eyes when he was done, to assess Leo’s state. Leo was still, always still, his hands clenched at his side, but he was looking down, staring at Neymar. Neymar couldn’t really decipher what was in Leo’s eyes right now – not everything at least. He looked forlorn (that much he could tell), but at the very least he was looking at him – not staring off into space, not watching the ground, not avoiding eye contacts – he was looking at him, _seeing_ him, and that was progress.

 

Neymar stood up slowly and put his hands on Leo’s shoulders, taking deliberate steps towards his bed and pushing Leo along with him. Leo stumbled all the way to the bed, until they finally reached it and Neymar pushed harder on his chest to make him fall down. Leo let himself crash without even trying to catch himself, just flopping of the bed, his body bouncing twice on the mattress.

 

Neymar got the sheets out from under Leo and Leo somehow moved, positioning himself so his head was on the pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling. Neymar climbed into the bed, next to Leo, and covered them with the sheets. His heart was beating fast, and he bit his lips – because of anxiety, because he couldn’t do that, couldn’t fall asleep next to Leo like that knowing he was probably going to spend the night staring at this godforsaken ceiling and hating himself for not having done things _he couldn’t have done_.

 

He resolved to move Leo, pushing on his shoulders until Leo was laying on his side, and Neymar molded himself against his back, throwing a leg over his waist and hooking it there, embracing Leo from behind with both his arms, trying to encase him in his warmth and to hold him completely, to reassure him and most of all: to make his presence known. Above everything, he didn’t want Leo to space out, needed him to being conscious, to focus on something. He needed Leo to be aware that Neymar was there, that he wasn’t alone, and thus, Neymar planted a kiss on Leo’s nape. A gentle kiss, and he left his lips there, against Leo’s skin.

 

He mouthed against his nape, murmured words and praises and soothing words against his skin, whispering in Portuguese because he knew Leo couldn’t understand, because he knew if he understood he’d protest, and so Neymar let himself speak words that sounded soothing, trying to give off an air of reassurance more than truly creating it.

 

One of his arm was under Leo’s body, holding him strongly against him, but his other hand wandered down, brushing against Leo’s stomach, caressing the soft skin here, tracing his abs, almost massaging in parts, content when the muscles tensed and contracted under his touch, because that meant Leo was here, with him.

 

Neymar caressed Leo’s side too, and what bits of Leo’s arms were available, brushing on the soft hairs on his forearms, and feeling up the strong muscles of his arms. He let his fingers graze against the skin as he reached for Leo’s navel, tracing the soft hair there, down until the waistband of Leo’s boxers. He slid his legs down a bit, refusing to unhook it from Leo’s body, but sliding it down enough so he could freely move his hand over Leo, reaching for his muscly thigh, pressing his hand there until he could feel it tense up.

 

There were some shivers making their way on Leo’s skin, and Neymar didn’t know if it was because of a growing arousal, or because of the tickly feeling his fingers induced, but it was good enough either way.

 

He let his fingers flutter against the fabric of Leo’s boxer, over his dick, tracing it from the head to the base, defining the outlines of it with his fingertips until he was able to visualize it if he closed his eyes. He flattened his palm against his crotch, pressing down; almost crushing Leo’s hardening dick, putting too much pressure to make sure Leo felt it, focused on it. He took Leo in his hand through his boxer, sliding his hands up and down on his shaft, until he could feel it truly harden under his ministrations, until it got hard enough that it could barely be contained by Leo’s underwear.

 

Neymar was still mouthing at Leo’s skin, placing wet and dry kisses on his skin, lapping or sucking as he saw fit, while still reciting some Portuguese nonsense he barely got track of. He would say Leo’s name from time to time, and that he knew Leo heard, because he tensed each time he uttered his name. He could feel Leo’s heart beating, his idle hand resting on Leo’s heart, and his very own heart was beating away in his ribcage, resonating inside Leo’s back.

 

His hand finally dived into Leo’s boxer, wrapping around the shaft, and Leo jolted. He moved his arms, crossing them over his chest so he could hold on Neymar’s idle arm, the one drawing him tightly against Neymar’s chest. He tangled his fingers with the hand Neymar had on his heart, and clasped his forearm with his other hand.

 

Neymar squeezed Leo’s dick, holding it firmly - maybe a little too hard, maybe a bit painfully - but he just wanted Leo to feel it; he didn’t want to give him a chance to escape, and he suspected Leo needed it, needed something to ground him on earth.

 

He didn’t pump Leo particularly fast, but he stroked his dick steadily, with a strong grip. His hand was dry, it wasn’t sliding very easily, but Leo’s breath was still quickening, sometimes hitching, and Neymar heard him swallow with difficulties.

 

Neymar was tired, his body still slow because of sleep, but he felt himself get aroused, his crotch pressed against Leo’s lower back and he felt hot too, pressed way too close to Leo, covered by too many covers and wrapped in a cocoon of heat. He was too tired for this though, so he sped up instead, wanting to bring Leo off before he had the time to get hard for real.

 

Leo’s body was tensing, the hands clasped around his arms tightening its grip, and his breathing quickened greatly, and Neymar knew Leo wasn’t going to last long, that he’d come soon.

 

He pulled his arm out from under Leo, detaching himself from him and letting go of his dick. Leo froze when Neymar let go of him, probably fearing he’d stop completely ( _maybe_ fearing he would leave him alone).

 

Neymar nudged his hips, pushing Leo on his back, and he then proceeded to straddle his thighs, moving lower on his thighs until he was able to reach Leo’s dick if he bent down. Leo’s hand went to his hair, grabbing a fistful of it. Neymar took the shaft back in his hand and placed his other hand on Leo’s thigh.

 

He resumed the movement on Leo’s dick, jerking him off firmly, and when he felt Leo tense up again under his hand and felt his hand grip his hair painfully, he bent down and wrapped his lips around the head of his dick. Leo came, and Neymar kept on pumping him, taking his cock in deeper as Leo’s warm semen filled his mouth, either reaching his throat or splattering his tongue, and Neymar swallowed everything.

 

Neymar sucked until he was sure Leo was completely spent, and then he sucked some more, encasing Leo’s dick in his mouth. He bobbed his head a bit, until he could feel Leo soften in his mouth. He let go of then, and licked the shaft, laving it with saliva to reclaim every drops of semen that had leaked from his mouth and trickled down Leo’s dick.

 

When it was completely clean, Neymar allowed himself to draw back and _breathe_ , taking big intakes of breath in, trying to calm down his racing heart. He flopped on Leo, pressing his forehead against Leo’s chest, and left his arms on both side of Leo’s body. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to will away his arousal and to reach the peaceful and relaxed state the sound of the doorbell had chased away.

 

Leo’s heart was beating under his ear, his ribcage heaving with the breaths he was taking in, and his hand was caressing his head, petting his hair and tracing his ear lobe gently. The fingers were gentle and thoughtful, and Neymar knew he was moving them on purpose, that he was conscious and focused on Neymar, and Neymar felt his chest warm as he thought he’d succeeded. Leo was there, with him, and that was the only thing he had wanted.

 

Leo’s fingers were also fluttering above his eyelids, brushing his brows, and Neymar felt himself relax under the touch, felt himself fall back into slumber as he listened to Leo’s heartbeat and his echoing breaths.

 

There was a voice, so low and soft that Neymar barely heard it “Thanks, Ney”; just a whisper, like a secret.

 

Neymar mumbled against Leo’s skin in acknowledgment, groaning and moaning more than he talked, but Leo squeezed his nape and Neymar thought it was enough.

 

He fell back asleep like that, lying on Leo, Leo’s arms around his head and shoulders, holding him close. He couldn’t help falling asleep under Leo’s soothing touches, even though a part of him was still worrying, wondering if Leo would even fall asleep, if there wasn’t a risk of him spacing out again

 

Most probably, it took a while for Leo to fall asleep after that, but when Neymar woke up, Leo was sleeping peacefully, and his arms were still embracing him. Neymar thought that he might have been useful, if only a little; that he might have been good for something.

 

Neymar thought he might have been of use to Leo, and that was already enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel conflicted, because on the one hand I don't like writing smut that much, but on the other hand I haven't written full-on sex in like, 2 parts, and that makes me sad ?  
> Also, I didn't mean to, but I gave myself Leo's feels, and I'm very glad I'm not writing in Leo's pov, because that would have been straight up angst.
> 
> As a side note, I'm also aware it may seem a bit inconsistent, because in the first part of this fic, Barça had lost and Leo wasn't that depressed, but as I tried to say, it's not like he was very happy before sexing Neymar then, and also, the longer the season drags, the unhappier he gets. Well, I hope it came across without me saying it, but I'm not sure it did, so...
> 
> Also, I'm aware I said next part would be car sex, but I also said I might change my mind so... But I'm working on it !


End file.
